


Those Pesky Human Immunodeficiencies

by janetcarter



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Common Cold, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27681466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janetcarter/pseuds/janetcarter
Summary: Not even the Vorlons had a cure for the common cold, so G’Kar takes care of Lyta instead when she gets sick.
Relationships: Lyta Alexander/G'Kar
Kudos: 4
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Those Pesky Human Immunodeficiencies

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I think Lyta never gets sick but this time it conveniences me to hit her with the common cold, since “Common Cold” is the Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt this fic is for.

"I'm _fine_ ," Lyta said, sitting up in her bunk. She went to cast aside the blanket, but a round of sneezing caught her first.

"Nonsense!” G’Kar handed her a cloth from his pocket. "You're pale as a rahtka."

"It's kind of hard to get a suntan out in the middle of space." As she wiped her nose, another sneeze ruined her case. Her eyes widened as the back of his hand touched against her forehead. 

“You also have a very high fever,” he scolded with a hint of pride at his diagnosis, taking his cool hand away far too soon. 

“I could have _hypothermia_ and you’d think it was a fever.”

“Well, as you do not have spot discoloration, I had to try a more human approach. Though it is quite confusing that this is called a 'cold' when your kind become _warmer_ when sick," he mused, hand stroking his chin. 

Wait, did he really study up on how colds differ for her? She shook the thought out of her head, which still had a cool patch from his touch. “Try a thermometer next time.”

“You _also--”_

“Look,” she interrupted, clearing her throat to disguise a cough. “I appreciate the concern, G’Kar,” as much as someone like her could allow, anyway, “but you know I can't afford to take a break."

"Ah, that is the fascinating thing about the universe! It is timeless.” God, how did he always have an answer for everything? She really shouldn't have hitched a ride with someone who literally wrote the book on spirituality. "Whatever it is can wait just one more day."

He said it so casually, like she didn’t have an entire resistance movement weighing on her shoulders. Of all people, _he_ should’ve known what it was like to be in her shoes. "Tell that to all the people out there whose lives depend on me."

He was silent for a moment. "It is entirely likely the stress of such responsibilities caused your illness. Every one of us needs a moment to recharge now and again. When we do not set aside that time, our bodies make the decision for us."

“I'm not _supposed_ to get sick.” She also wasn’t supposed to get left behind by the beings she once trusted with her life, but look how that turned out. Maybe the Vorlons didn’t deserve the trust she was putting in their priorities at the moment. Either way, it didn’t make it any less annoying to experience something so limiting. 

He sighed. "Think of it as such: the sooner you are better, the sooner--and more efficiently--you may return to work. You are of use to no one in this state." 

_Dammit._ He wasn't wrong, and the bed felt a lot comfier just then, blankets heavier, mattress softer... Would it really be the end of the world if she gave into the temptation to close her eyes for a few minutes? "I'm only letting you have this because my throat hurts too much to keep arguing."

He carefully lifted the wooden spoon from the bowl, vegetables bobbing in the broth, and added: "This is for your own good."

She pouted, glaring at him. He nudged it against her lip.

“I have hands,” she mumbled, but finally took a sip. It was warm against her throat, easing the strain she put on it by fighting him. Herbs she recognized from other meals he’d made added a quiet flavor amongst the other ingredients.

Somehow, she felt better already.

"Well?"

"It's good, alright?" she admitted, savoring its soothing effects and salty taste. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

A successful smile stretched across his face. He carefully rested the bowl on the nightstand. "When I come back, the bowl had better be empty!"

She rolled her eyes, causing the nightstand to fully catch her gaze. Next to the bowl were other little remedies he’d brought in to help her. 

He was halfway out the door when she conjured up the words

"G'kar, wait." She swallowed, throat still sore but bearably so, as he turned. “Thanks."

"Do not forget, Lyta,” he said. “Whether you like it or not, you still are human.”

He was lucky he slid the door shut before she could respond. She hated that. She was so much _more_ than human; if she weren’t their kind wouldn't have used and rejected her in the same breath.

But, she realized as she looked down to her pale hands, spoon between her fingers, she was still working off of the species’ weak foundation. In some sense, she _was_ still human; but she was also a few other things, too, twisting together into something new. And apparently, the Vorlons didn't take the common cold into account when they were busy designing her gills.

She swallowed another spoonful of broth. There didn’t seem to be limits to her telepathic abilities, but there were unfortunately limits to _her._ And it took someone like G'kar, someone who didn’t expect her to broadcast commands across space or fight Shadows or do any of a million other tasks, to remind her of them.

It took someone who was actually on her side for once, whether she was ready to recognize such a thing or not, to let her listen to those limits, too.


End file.
